#cities.start

“i swear to god, if i find out who’s doing this, --” thea started, as she violently stapled her laminated, homemade posters to the lobby wall. in clear, black font, the poster read: can whoever is playing stormzy until three in the morning shut the fuck up? this is a residential building, not love island. regards, theodora floros. “-- i’m going to kill them. to death. and don’t think i won't. i know people.” 

auden threw his head back and released a loud groan as he stared up at the ceiling. “god, i’m so bored!” he shouted into the air. he had spent most of the day chilling inside his penthouse with a friend, but the fun had already run its course and he was sick of being inside now. night had already fallen and auden knew that that was when the city really came alive so he knew there’d be something to do. “let’s go to a party or a club,” he turned to look at his friend. “i don’t care where it is just as long as we’re not in this apartment anymore.”

“You can just put that in the second bedroom. Thank you.” Victor said to the movers who were carrying his heavy oak bookshelf; the very last of his belongings to be taken off of the moving truck. Sighing heavily as he glanced around his living room full of boxes, most of which, if his recent past was any indication, would never even be fully unpacked before he moved again, he moved to his liquor cabinet and unscrewed the lid off of one of his best whiskeys, pouring some into a crystal glass.  He raised the glass to lips to take a drink, right as he noticed someone standing outside of his open door and peaking in curiously. Meeting their gaze, a small smirked etched it’s way onto the corners of his lips. “Would you like a drink? He asked, lifting his glass in indication. “I mean, I’d like to say I’m offering in the interest of hospitality, and getting to know my neighbors, but in truth, it’s more because having company gives me an excuse to put off unpacking for a little bit longer” He added with a chuckle

To make sure they were always in their best shape and ready to take the stage, Nikolai spent a lot of time practicing on their own. It was a habit taught by their first ballet teacher, an angry old lady back in Moscow who could still spin a pirouette better than most young dancers would. And while they knew they were never going to quite earn that star status, dancing still paid their bills, and so, it was in Nikolai's best interest to do his best. After a nice set of stretching, they moved onto the exercises, testing their flexibility until... until they raised their eyes to the big mirror covering the wall and noticed that they were most certainly not alone in the room anymore. "Извините," they said, stopping their motions altogether and turning around to face the intruder. "May I help you?" Another response, Russian accent especially thick in their voice when startled.